


Five Times Julian Didn't Quite See the Apprentice Naked (& One Time He Did)

by infernal



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Festivals, Pumpkin Spice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 20:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernal/pseuds/infernal
Summary: Julian has an interesting week.





	Five Times Julian Didn't Quite See the Apprentice Naked (& One Time He Did)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Happy ToT, Sumi! I loved your prompt for one of them walking in on the other undressing. Hope you enjoy!

1\. 

It's not that he _saw_ anything, mind you. Nothing… _scandalous_ , at any rate. There was definitely, absolutely no reason for Julian to be replaying the scene over and over again in his head. 

And yet, if he wasn't careful, he found himself drifting off to thoughts of the nape of the Apprentice's neck, her long hair tied up to keep from getting damp; her arms, lightly muscled from her work in the shop; the smooth skin of her bare shoulder as she turned her head to eye him over it, keeping her back to him. "Oh, did I forget to lock the door? I'm sorry," she'd said.

"It's all right," he'd managed to say, and she'd given him a smile, turning her head back and sinking down into the bath. 

There had been no reason for him to linger, but he did so for a moment anyway, committing the scene firmly to memory before backing out into the hallway. 

 

2\. 

Under Lucio's reign, Vesuvia's annual harvest festival had been little more than an excuse for loud, chaotic public debauchery. Julian might have even enjoyed it, were it not for the Lucio part. 

With Nadia as sole ruler, this year's festival was a statelier affair -- more of a farmer's market than anything else. Julian hardly saw a drop of alcohol the entire afternoon, save for the ale that one farmer was peddling, labelled as "pumpkin spice," whatever that meant. He purchased a small cask and headed off to find the Apprentice in the crowd, hoping she fancied a drink.

He heard her voice coming from nearby, behind a curtain that sectioned off one of the vendors' stalls, and made his way for it. It was only when he poked his head through that he realized his mistake: this vendor had been selling clothing, and the curtained area was a changing room. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, raising the garment back up over her bare chest, but not before he'd received an eyeful. "You could have knocked, you know."

"There aren't any walls," he said foolishly, and then shook his head as if to physically snap himself out of it. He could feel himself blushing, and he tried to will his traitorous skin to calm down. "I mean, I didn't realize. That you were changing, I mean. I heard your voice. Who were you talking to, anyway?"

She gave a pointed look to the corner, where Faust was curled up, watching both of them with animated interest. "She's giving me fashion advice," she said.

"Oh. Well, I'll just… leave you to it," he said, pulling himself back through the curtain, his relief at extricating himself from the situation fading when he received a tongue-lashing from the clothes vendor for bothering her customers. Unable to convince her he wasn't a pervert, he'd eventually slipped her the last of his coin just to make her stop yelling at him.

And of course the Apprentice heard it all, her eyes bright with merriment when she emerged from the curtain, Faust curled around her neck and a pile of garments in her hand. As she paid the vendor, she gave Julian a sly smile that had his toes curling, even as he mentally groused that there was no way he was sharing his ale with her.

 

3\. 

"This is _amazing_ ," she said, voice slurred, as she held out her mug for more of the pumpkin spice ale. "It doesn't taste like a pumpkin, though."

"Mm, it's more like a pie," he replied, topping up her mug before filling his own. "I tried ale made with melon once, and that was delicious."

Her nose wrinkled. "That doesn't _sound_ delicious."

"I was already three sheets to the wind before I tried it," he allowed. "That might have had something to do with it."

She laughed, taking another gulp of her drink. They'd nearly finished off the little cask he'd bought earlier in the day, and they were both starting to get a little unsteady on their feet. "I don't know how many sheets to the wind I am, but I think it might be in the double digits." 

"Time to get you back home," he said, and she downed the last of her drink before attempting to stand.

He caught her as she swayed, but the motion made him sway himself, and she laughed again, pressing against his side. "We'll have to hold each other up," she said.

"I'll _hold_ you to it," he said solemnly, then snickered when she groaned at his terrible joke.

They wove through the streets, where the festivities had become decidedly less tame as the night progressed. A few revelers banged into them at one point, nearly sending him flying, but the Apprentice caught him with a firm grip, tugging him back against her side. Her fingers pressed into his side, and he shivered.

They made it to the magic shop without further incident, and she let out another groan, hurling herself onto the sofa in the corner. Faust let out a startled hiss at the sudden drop and uncurled herself from the Apprentice's shoulders, slithering off to find some place else to rest.

"You can stay if you want," the Apprentice said, gesturing vaguely towards the stairs. "My bed's free, I'm good here." 

"You're not sleeping like that, are you?" he asked. "You're covered in mud."

"Ugh," was her only response, and he sighed, walking over to the sofa and kneeling down.

Her eyes fluttered back open and she watched with interest as he knelt beside her. He said nothing, just started unlacing her boots, aware of her gaze on him as he unknotted the laces. He got them unlaced and pulled the boots off, dropping them on the floor. 

"Buttons too, please?" she said sleepily. "I don't think my hands work anymore."

"Well, since you asked nicely," he said, even though at this point he was pretty certain that she wouldn't even have to ask at all for him to do whatever she wanted, just make demands. 

Her dress buttoned down the front, and he busied himself with keeping his ale-clumsy fingers steady as he attempted to get all the buttons. It was tricky, with the drunkenness, with the way every now and again he'd catch a glimpse of skin -- she had something on underneath the dress, but there was still more of her on display than he was accustomed to seeing.

"There you go," he said, work done. Before he could stand again, she rested her palm against the crook of his neck, then trailed her hand up until her hand was pressed against his cheek.

When he met her eyes, her expression was sleepy and fond. "You're so good," she said. "You know that, right? You're -- you're very good." 

His face felt as hot as it had earlier in the day when he'd walked in on her changing, and he leaned into her touch for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. "You're not so bad yourself. Get some sleep, all right?" 

 

4\. 

"Let me see," Julian said, and she shook her head, obstinately keeping her arm across her stomach. 

"Let me _see_ ," he said again, tone brokering no disagreement. It wasn't a tone he used often, and had never used around her -- it was reserved for unruly patients and hesitant assistants, but right now she was definitely the former.

She sighed and lifted her arm, revealing that her shirt was stained red with blood. He shook his head. "How _do_ these things always happen to you?"

"Just lucky, I suppose," she said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, it's fine, I'm not about to keel over."

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you." She begrudgingly lifted her shirt to show him the cut on her stomach, and he shook his head again when he saw the depth of the wound. "Oh, sure, that's perfectly fine -- as long as you enjoy a few weeks of pain and the risk of infection."

"You know me, Julian," she said. "I like to live dangerously."

"Well, _now_ you're honest, at least," he said. "Here, let's get you healed up."

She shook her head again. "No, it's --" She flushed. "There's no need for you to be in pain over my silly mistake. Not again." 

"A few moments of pain are a lot better than a few weeks of worrying about whether or not that wound has gone septic, I'll have you know."

She narrowed her eyes but relented, leaning back on one elbow. She kept her shirt hiked up while he healed the wound, and because he was in pain -- and because he was a _professional_ , thank you very much -- he absolutely didn't notice the way her muscles tensed and relaxed as he healed her, or the way she got goosebumps when his fingers grazed her skin, or the way the edge of the shirt was pulled up high enough that one could, if they were so inclined, see the beginning of the curves of her chest. 

He finished absorbing the worst of it -- it wasn't too bad, really, but he found himself light-headed all the same. "Julian? Are you all right?" she asked, and he nodded, but he was swaying with the movement.

"I'm fine," he said, but he could hear the slur in his speech, and she laughed. 

"Oh, sure, sure. Didn't you _just_ get snippy with me for pretending to be okay when I wasn't? Here," she said, manoeuvering him until he was laying back with his head in her lap. "Lie down a minute."

"Okay," he said, agreeable now that the danger had passed. It wasn't the most comfortable place to lay -- the floor was cold and hard, and this close, he could smell the blood that still lingered on her shirt -- but he found himself dozing off nonetheless.

 

5\. 

The door to her room in the castle opened and she poked her head out, her face brightening when she saw Julian. "I thought I heard you out here! Come in, quick," she said.

He obliged, and she shut the door behind them. "Is something wrong?"

"Just this dress that Nadia sent up. What _is_ it with royalty and wearing fancy things to every meal? Would the world end if I wore the same outfit to breakfast and supper?" 

"Perish the thought," he said, voice dry.

She turned, showing him the problem; her front was covered, but her back was bare -- the dress was still unlaced, the bindings on the back too tricky for even her deft, clever fingers to manage on their own. "Can you do these up?"

"I'll give it a go." 

It took him a few moments to figure out which way to lace the ribbons, and she sighed. "I don't see why I can't have an outfit like yours. I don't suppose you have a spare jacket kicking around?"

His stomach did something funny at the thought of her wearing his clothes to dinner, and he fumbled for a moment with the laces. "Mm, no. I have a few, but I think I might have a heart attack." He regained his composure and tied the last of the ribbons up with a flourish. 

"Well, we can't have that," she said, turning and placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. "I like it just like it is." 

 

6\. 

He barely managed to get her trousers unbuttoned before she was kicking them off herself, settling back on top of him as quick as she could. "Touch me," she said, and he was only too happy to comply, though it felt inconceivable that he was even allowed to look, let alone touch. 

After, when they were lying together sated and dazed, Julian finally snapped back into it enough to take stock of their current clothing situation and laughed. They'd been frantic enough that they still had socks on, though one of his had come off during the action. She followed his gaze and joined him in his laughter, giggling helplessly against his chest. 

"We look ridiculous," she said, kicking her socks off. 

He shrugged, lifting his socked foot. "I don't know, I think it's a bold look. Very fashion-forward. We'll be starting trends all across Vesuvia."

"What, naked except for a sock?" she asked, eyes still dancing with laughter.

"All the nobles will be doing it," he said solemnly, and she started to wheeze.

"Sorry, sorry, just -- imagining that court session," she said, wiping tears away. "I think I'll have to pass on the latest trend, thanks."

"But it suits you so well," he joked, his gaze taking in all of her. 

"Well, I might be convinced to wear it privately, you know. And maybe skip the sock altogether."

"Acceptable," he said, mouth suddenly dry at the look she was giving him. He cleared his throat. "More than, I'd say."


End file.
